Notwithstanding the great disparity of numbers, the
little crew of the schooner had for some time a considerable
advantage over their enemies. At the first onset
of these latter, their pistols had been discharged,
but in so random a manner as to have done no injury—­whereas
the assailed, scrupulously obeying the order of their
Commander, fired not a shot until they found themselves
face to face with an enemy; the consequence of which
was, that every pistol ball killed an American, or
otherwise placed him horsdecombat.
Still, in despite of their loss, the latter were more
than adequate to the capture, unless a miracle should
interpose to prevent it, and exasperated as they were
by the fall of their comrades, their efforts became
at each moment more resolute and successful. A
deadly contest had been maintained in the gangway,
from which, however, Gerald was compelled to retire,
although bravely supported by his handful of followers.
Step by step he had retreated, until at length he
found his back against the main-mast, and his enemies
pressing him on every side. Five of his men lay
dead in the space between the gangway and the position
he now occupied, and Sambo, who had not quitted his
side for an instant, was also senseless at his feet,
felled by a tremendous blow from a cutlass upon the
head. Hit force now consisted merely of the five
men remaining of his own party, and three of those
who had been detached, who, all that were left alive,
had been compelled to fall back upon their commander.
How long he would have continued the hopeless and desperate
struggle, in this manner is doubtful, had not a fresh
enemy appeared in his rear. These were the crews
of two other boats, who, having boarded without difficulty,
now came up to the assistance of their comrades.
So completely taken by surprise was Gerald in this
quarter, that the first intimation he had of his danger
was, in the violent seizure of his sword arm from
behind, and a general rush upon, and disarming of
the remainder of his followers. On turning to
behold his enemy, he saw with concern the triumphant
face of Desborough.

“Every dog has his day, I guess,” huskily
chuckled the settler, as by the glare of several torches
which had been suddenly lighted, he was now seen casting
looks of savage vengeance, and holding his formidable
knife threateningly over the head of the officer whom
he had grappled. “I reckon as how I told
you it would be Jeremiah Desborough’s turn next.”

“Silence fellow, loose your hold,” shouted
one whose authoritative voice and manner, announced
him for an officer, apparently the leader of the boarding
party.

Awed by the tone in which he was addressed, the settler
quitted his grasp, and retired muttering into the crowd
behind him.

“I regret much, sir,” pursued the American
Commander seriously, and turning to Gerald, “that
your obstinate defence—­should have been
carried to the length it has. We were given to
understand, that ours would not be an easy conquest—­yet,
little deemed it would have been purchased with the
lives of nearly half our force. Still, even while
we deplore our loss, have we hearts to estimate the
valour of our foe. I cannot give you freedom,
since the gift is not at my disposal; but at least
I may spare you the pain of surrendering a blade you
have so nobly wielded. Retain your sword, sir.”